Information/Write-up
"More songs about dead hockey players, cannibalism, and lesbian school teachers."
With The Land is Wild, former Rheostatic Dave Bidini makes a triumphant and unpredictable return to music, fronting his new project Bidiniband with wit, heart, and a singular vision. Known as much for his books and films as his music, Bidini’s debut with Bidiniband picks up where the Rheostatics left off—twisting rock traditions into something unmistakably Canadian and unmistakably his own. The result is a clever, compelling collection of songs that’s alternately hilarious, heartbreaking, and thought-provoking—a rock record that doubles as cultural commentary, political satire, and folk storytelling.
The album’s beating heart is its title track, an epic ode to fallen hockey prodigy Bryan Fogarty, whose early promise was swallowed by addiction and tragedy. In Bidini’s hands, Fogarty’s life becomes a haunting ballad of lost dreams and the harsh cost of fame in a cold, unforgiving land. “Hockey devours its young,” Bidini sings, crafting a narrative that is as musically gripping—building from acoustic reverie to electric crescendo—as it is lyrically devastating. It’s not just a hockey song; it’s a meditation on Canada itself, on how “the land is wild, but we are wintergreen.”
The track’s impact stretched beyond the album when it opened Hockey Night in Canada’s 2009 broadcast of Game 4 (Pittsburgh vs. Carolina), with visuals curated by Tim Thompson. It was a rare national moment for a song that blurs the line between lament and love letter to the game.
From the opening of “Desert Island Poem”—where Bidini cheekily imagines a Rheostatics plane crash and cannibalism in Drumheller—you know you’re not in standard rock territory. Bidini’s voice, half-poet, half-bard, leads the listener through tales of refugee camps (“Why Zeke Roberts Died”), Bush-era politics (“Pornography”), and self-deprecating musical jabs (“Song Ain’t Any Good”). “We Like to Rock” is a gleeful anthem for Canadian musicians, while the hidden track, “The List,” hilariously skewers pop culture: “Chad Kroeger, Chad Kroeger, you’re killing us now.”
Musically, the album is dynamic and richly textured, grounded in acoustic layers yet never afraid of distortion or feedback. Bidini is joined by Don Kerr (drums, tenor guitar, and production), Paul Linklater (guitar), and Doug Friesen (bass), with contributions from Ford Pier and Dave Merritt. The band moves seamlessly from folk rock to power pop, with playful arrangements and intricate guitar work that feel lived-in yet meticulously crafted—a testament to the album’s year-long, multi-studio gestation.
In short, The Land is Wild is a document of a country, a soundtrack to survival, and an anthem for the misunderstood. It’s the sound of Bidini embracing the wild—Canada’s, and his own—with humour, grit, and unmistakable voice. Whether you’re here for the hockey stories, the satire, or the sheer joy of genre-bending rock, this is a record that rewards repeat listens and reveals new layers every time.
-Robert Williston
The Land is Wild lyrics:
Brian Fogarty had a gift: he was born with a golden glide.
He could wind for days like a seal on a bloody flow.
He was a lot like you and me, all of that genius shit aside.
Surely Brian would not get burnt by that glittering thing.
He was a star at 21, but a boozer at 17.
Dope eased the pain of what he never had wanted to be.
Do you dream of winter in the summertime?
I dream of all those things you wanted to be.
It gets so cold along the timberline.
The land is wild, but we are wintergreen.
Bryan went to Niagara Falls. As a junior, he had it all:
A bouquet of girls and the records of Bobby Orr.
Kicked up to the NHL, he was playing at Madison Square.
When the coaches would scream, he'd turn his back and play air guitar.
Who has poisoned the prodigal son?
Why does hockey devour its young?
Is it the curse of the cold or the promise of what winter will kill?
Do you dream of winter in the summertime?
I dream of all those things you wanted to be.
It gets so cold along the timberline.
The land is wild, but we are wintergreen.
John Kordic was taken down by ten cops in a motel room.
Juiced, angry, coked-out, he was bound for his grave.
But John Kordic was Fogarty's friend; they kicked around from team to team.
After Kordic's demise, things got bad for the golden blade.
Out of hockey at 31, he drifted here and over there.
One night with his friend, he broke into his buddy's high school.
They were found wasted and out of their minds;
They were naked and shivering, covered in cooking oil.
They were dragged to the local jail.
A sorry sad demise. In the press he was vilified as a stupid, wasted creep.
But he didn't have to be. No, he didn't have to be.
He was doing the best he could with the game so far away.
He went fishing with his old man down in Florida.
His heart exploded while in the boat.
The papers said it was an overdose,
But he did not burn-out, he was just getting clean.
Who has poisoned the prodigal son
Why does hockey devour its young?
At his funeral, only one ex-team mate was there to cry.
Do you dream of winter in the summertime?
I dream of all those things you wanted to be.
It gets so cold along the timberline.
The land is wild, but we are wintergreen.
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